Ten Thirteen Indigo
by MerryLittleMess
Summary: Where Detective Sam Swarek is in the wrong place at the wrong time and the team must race to find him before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters involved. All rights to Global Television Network.

**I**

Sam Swarek was on his way back from the bakery when the window next to him exploded into a shower of razor-sharp projectiles. Instinctively, he ducked, dropping his bag and car keys to the floor to bring up his hands as a shield. Something pierced his arm, but Sam was too busy to notice. There were people screaming, the cries of sirens in the distance and he was pretty sure he'd heard gunshots. And then there was a boy who was lying on the sidewalk after he'd been thrown through the storefront window.

"Hey, are you alright?", Sam asked, crouching down next to the young man. His right hand cautiously gripped his weapon while he checked for a pulse. Just when he'd found a rapid heartbeat, the young man suddenly lurched to his feet, knocking back the Detective. Realizing that his witness was about to take off, Sam reached out, but only succeeded in further loss of balance as his fingers grazed the man. With a muttered curse, Sam landed flat on his ass and silently congratulated himself on his clumsiness. At least Andy wasn't around to gloat.

"Wait!", he shouted, jumped up and gave chase. Although there had been several bloody cuts on the victim, he wasn't slowing down. On and on they went, neither of them gaining. Sam was breathing hard, calling out for the blond, obviously athletic kid to hold up. Maybe, he reasoned, he wasn't even chasing a victim but a perpetrator? Whatever the case, he was determined to catch the guy, so he quickened his pace again. Finally, the runner's luck seemed to have run out and Sam was able to pin him against the wall when the young man misjudged a narrow corner.

"Stop, dammit! Just... wait a minute. Why... are you running? What happened?", Sam gasped, turning the young man around so he was facing him with his back pressed to the wall. It was just a child, Sam realized with relief. Barely eighteen years old, maybe even younger. Big blue eyes, now round with panic.

"I-I-I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to... I never meant... I... oh God, I'm..." The kid must be in shock, he wasn't making any sense. Sam smiled a little and stepped back in an effort to seem less threatening. "Calm down. It's alright. You're safe now."

"No! No, you don't get it! You... you don't... they're gonna kill us!"

"Who?", Sam inquired. His training was kicking in, all alarm bells ringing. Something about this whole situation wasn't right. He was turning around to take the youth back to the station when he heard footsteps right behind them. How could he have missed them before? They were already closing in. It took only a second to rip out his gun, but he was too late.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." A cold voice chided and something equally cold was pressed against the nape of his neck. Carefully, Sam took his finger away from the trigger of his weapon and lifted his other hand in a gesture of surrender.

"Okay. Just don't do anything stupid. I don't know what's going on here, but it sure isn't worth killing for", he said as levelly as he could and gave up the gun when it was pried from his loose grip. His eyes met the blue orbs of the kid in front of him, contained desperation meeting naked fear. But there was something else, too. Recognition. So who were these guys? And how were they connected to the smashed store window and the shots?

"Look, whatever problem you have with this kid, just put the gun away and we can talk about it, okay? I'm gonna turn around and then we can have a conversation. Be reasonable, I'm sure you don't want to kill anyone." Or else I'd be dead already. Which of course doesn't rule out my imminent death. Sam was sweating in his black leather jacket, adrenaline cursing through his veins and his muscles burning from the pursuit. Steeling himself, he gradually began to turn his head around, only to be rewarded with a rough blow to his back.

"No! Don't. Stay right where you are!"

"Okay, okay. I'm not moving", Sam reassured the attacker. The longer he stood in the alley, the more clear it became that the criminal wasn't an experienced fellow. If anything, he seemed as panicked as the blond teen on the other side of the Detective. The gun on his neck was shacking ever so slightly.

"You've got to make a decision soon. There are gonna be cops all over this place in a few minutes", Sam warned, putting himself and the criminal on the same side. C'mon, he urged inwardly, make a run for it.

"He's right, man! We've got to move!", another voice chimed in. So there were two of them, maybe more. This was getting worse by the second, but Sam wasn't ready to give up yet.

"Let the kid go. He won't talk, he's scared out of his mind", he pushed on. There were murmurs behind him, then the first voice agreed.

"We know where to find you, Jeremy! We'll know if you rat us out!"

"I-I-I would never...", Jeremy answered, close to tears. Although the poor boy was trembling all over, Sam sincerely hoped he was lying and would call 911 as soon as he was out of view. He could really use some backup.

"Fine, go! Run, before I change my mind!" Jeremy didn't need to be told twice. He bolted, never looking back. Sam sighed quietly, both because he didn't rate the chances of Jeremy phoning the police very high and because he'd at least rescued the civilian from this impending catastrophe. One less person to worry about.

"Now what do we do? We can't walk away, he'll scream for help and then we're toast!" The second attacker interjected. Sam was about to offer another suggestion and maneuver himself out of this mess when he felt the gun push deeper into his exposed skin.

"Shut up! I'm thinking."

"Think faster! They'll find us any second. The sirens are close!"

"I..."

"Boyden!"

"Fine! We take him with us. He won't be able to talk to anyone if he isn't here anymore, right?" Oh no, this wasn't happening, Sam thought and groaned inwardly. He didn't even have time to brace himself before something hard collided with his temple and his world was lost in darkness.

**II**

"McNally!"

"Yes?" Andy turned around, surprised to find Tracy standing right in front of her. Moreover, her best friend seemed to be angry. Frowning, tense posture, hands resting on her hips... yep, something was definitely bothering Detective Nash.

"What's up? You're looking kind of agitated."

"Your boyfriend stood me up. We were supposed to meet an hour ago!"

"So...?", Andy inquired and raised an eyebrow in annoyance. She didn't like the way Tracy was accusing her of something Sam was responsible for, even more so because it was just a missed appointment. No need to get worked up about it.

"Sorry", Tracy said and took a chair next to Andy in the office. "It's just that we're working on this huge case and Steve was coming by to go over the details this afternoon and I'm not sure about the CI we questioned last week. And..."

Andy smiled, getting the feeling she knew the real problem. "So, Detective Peck is visiting and you want to make a good impression. He's quite handsome, isn't he?"

"Andy! It's not like we're dating... yet." Andy snorted, clapping her friend on the back in a friendly manner.

"Yeah, right. I'm sure you'll impress Detective Peck, no matter whether you discussed the files with Sam beforehand. Just smile at Mr. Handsome and he'll forget all about the CI."

"Oh, stop it", Tracy answered, but she was smiling, too. Changing the topic, she picked up a note on Andy's desk and asked what the officer was working on.

"There has been an assault on Main Street. I'm headed there right now, gotta help clean up. I heard a window was destroyed and a small fire broke out. There were also some bullet shells found, but no casualties."

"Well, have fun."

"Thanks." Andy was already pulling on her jacket and heading for the door, her mind on the job. Nevertheless, she couldn't quite shake the worry that was gnawing at her insides. Sam wasn't usually late for work. She'd call him as soon as she got back to the station.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey guys! This is my first Rookie Blue fanfic.

Do you like it? Do you think I should continue?

Please **rate and review**, I'd really appreciate it.


	2. Chapter 2

**SPOILER ALERT!**

The following chapter contains spoilers for episode 2x13.

If you haven't watched the episode yet, just skip the third and fourth paragraph.

* * *

**III**

He had been asleep too long. He needed to do something. Something urgent. But what? Sam yawned, stretched a little more and drowsily opened his eyes. It was still dark, so what would he be supposed to do? "Andy? Are you awake?"

There was loud music blaring on the floor above him and he had the mother of all headaches. A party? And if so, why was he passed out in the... basement? Where was he? Still tired, he tried to rub his eyes and found that he was unable to. His arms were stuck above his head, tied to a metal structure of some sort. Ignoring the pain in his back and shoulders, Sam frantically tried to pull himself free, only then noticing the characteristically spaced metal bars beneath his aching body.

"A bed-frame. Fantastic." He tried to ease the strain on his muscles by inching himself closer to the headboard, but soon realized that his legs were similarly immobilized as his arms, bound with thick rope. Spread out and completely helpless. Just like that time with Jamie Brennan. Sam's breath hitched as memories of the torture he'd had to endure washed over him. The more he tried to suppress the vivid nightmare, the more his body fought against the bonds that restrained him. He couldn't breathe, felt the water slide down his throat again. Felt his body contract as he fought for air and consciousness. Heard Brennan's voice, his endless questions.

"Stop it!" Sam wasn't sure whether he was talking to Brennan or himself. Grinding his teeth, he knocked his head as hard as he could against the closest bar of the bed. It hurt, catapulting the headache from inconvenient to unbearable. For a moment, the pain blocked out the overwhelming fear and that was all he needed to take the reigns again. He lay there, concentrating on his heavy breathing until suddenly the door opened and a blinding light was switched on.

"Look, he's awake!"

"Told you we should have done this right while he was still asleep", another voice shot back angrily. That must be Boyden, Sam reasoned. The man with the weapon, or, better, the teenager with the weapon. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the harsh light, he could see the two males hovering uncertainly on a stairwell at the end of the room behind Sam's head. His guess had been right, they were about the same age as Jeremy, the victim. Sam waited patiently for a few moments, surveying his surroundings. The room was small and windowless, dirty and without any furniture except for a few cardboard boxes and the stripped down bed. Probably a normal townhouse, which further supported his theory that those boys weren't professionals at all.

"You can still get out of this, you know? Just come here and cut these. Let me go. I promise I won't tell anybody."

"We can't. Not now, after you've seen our faces", Boyden said. He and the other guy, who was very tall and built like a Football player, carefully came down and towered over the Detective.

"Search him."

"Why do I have to? Search him yourself", Large answered, stepping back and rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans. "I already tied him up, it's your turn."

"Fine", Boyden snapped. Sam would have liked to laugh at the absurdity of the argument, but his mind was occupied. In his right inner pocket, his official police badge seemed to burn against his skin. If they found it, they wouldn't react well, that was for sure. As insecure as they were in their roles as wannabe kidnappers, who could tell what these kids would do?

"You already got the gun. My phone is in my left jeans pocket", Sam supplied helpfully as Boyden bent over him. Nimble fingers pulled out the new iPhone, which was then handed to Large, who eyed it suspiciously. "It's not going to explode, don't worry", the Detective said, trying to distract the other youth, who was systematically searching all his pockets.

"I'm not worried", Large sneered, deftly pulling the phone apart. Once he held the battery in the palm of his hand, he sighed appreciatively. "Just in case they try GPS. I've seen the movies, I know how this works."

"Oh, shut up", Boyden said. Sam shifted uncomfortably as his back pockets and even his shoes were patted down. No way he was going to hide a badge the size of his palm. Glancing up, he got the first good look at the ropes that shackled him to the bed. Chaotic knots and many more than necessary, but the whole construction seemed stable. He'd have to rely on his wits to keep things from going sideways.

"Does he always talk to you that way?", he asked Large, nodding at Boyden. Large's small brown eyes narrowed even further and his slim upper lip twitched into an unpleasant smile. "I know what you're trying to do. Play us against each other. Won't work. We're brothers, we protect each other."

"Brothers, huh?" They looked nothing alike, Large with a height of over six feet and a longish face whereas Boyden tended towards stocky and small. Both had nearly shaved heads, though. Did that count?

"Shut up, Des", Boyden repeated. "You shouldn't..." Whatever he was going to say, it got stuck in his throat when his search reached the inner pockets of Sam's jacket and he pulled out the shiny police badge. "Detective Sam Swarek. Fifteenth Division", Boyden read tonelessly, then both kidnappers stared in shocked silence.

Boyden's face was becoming the bright red of tomatoes and a thick blue vein was pulsing on his neck, warning Sam that things were going downhill as quickly as expected. Nonetheless, he didn't see the brutal punch to his unprotected ribs coming. The next one he did anticipate, although that didn't really help. Another well-placed fist forced Sam to cry out in pain, which spurred Large – Des – into action. Proving his superior strength, he easily pulled the raging Boyden off their captive.

"Um, I don't think we should, considering he's a cop and all."

"Oh yeah? Fuck you! And fuck this!", Boyden ranted, hitting the wall a few times before he hid his face in his hands. "We need to call Frankie. We're in over our heads."

"Frankie?", Des replied, lip twitching yet again in nervousness, "Do you think that's a good idea? Frankie, man, he scares me sometimes."

"He'll know how to deal with this", Boyden replied stiffly and kicked the bed-frame. Sam winced, but Des nodded, whereupon Boyden marched out of the room.

"Hey, thanks for the help", Sam said, holding back Des with his words. Des shrugged in an uncaring manner, clearly elsewhere with his thoughts.

"Don't thank me yet. I probably should have let Boyden blow off some steam. Would have been better for all of us." And with that, he trotted up the stairs and closed the massive wooded door, leaving Sam to ponder the implications of that final statement.

**IV**

Glass crunched under her feet as Officer Andy McNally walked the elderly couple to the other side of the street. "No, Ma'am, you really can't get any bread at the bakery today. The window is broken."

"I can see that! I'm not blind!", the Lady snapped. She was wearing such thick glasses that Andy was convinced she must be as blind as a mole. Also, the husband giggled right behind the woman's back and she didn't seem to notice.

"Don't mind Mary. She's a little forgetful sometimes. This is the third time she tried to buy bread this day."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?", Andy asked the husband curiously. Maybe this job wouldn't be as boring as it had started out, maybe the bothersome Lady had seen something suspicious. On second thought, though, her testimony would hardly be reliable.

"Around eight, I think."

"What?", the Lady interrupted. "You were still sleepin at eight. Never get up early, you sluggard, leaving all the work for poor old Mary. Yes, you do." The husband smiled indulgently and after a quick dispute, he agreed, took Mary's hand and kissed it. Andy rolled her eyes at them. She and Sam were always arguing, too.

"Ma'am? Did you see anything peculiar on your way to the bakery early this morning?"

"Well, Mrs. Klinche had left the garage door open again...", Mary mused, stopping beside her husband to lean on his shoulder. The short brisk walk had clearly been too much for her. Nevertheless, she kept mentioning her neighbors – horrible folk apparently, always having an untidy lawn – until Andy specified the location of the peculiar appearances to the store itself. By that time, Mary's husband was trying so hard not to laugh that tears were streaming down his wrinkled face. Andy kinda hoped she and Sam would end up just like them. Old, withered and very much in love.

What was she thinking? She had a job to do and a witness to interrogate. "Oh, yes. Yes, yes, there was a commotion! Such a commotion I haven't seen in years, ever since the Rustler's moved out. Do you remember that, dear? Such a commotion!"

"Yes, Mary, I do remember. But what about the bakery?" At her husband's question, Mary seemed to stand up straighter.

"I was walking on the sidewalk, minding my own business, then the shouting started. And then bang! There goes the window. Luckily old Mary was on the other side of the street, yes, lucky me. But there were two men right next to it. One had a big paper bag from the bakery with him. Shame that he dropped it, I bet there were a lot of donuts in that bag. Hehe, hehe." Meanwhile, Andy had pulled out her notebook and filled the first page with slurry handwriting. At long last she was getting somewhere.

"The men, can you describe them?"

"Well, they were bigger than my husband. Younger and more muscular, too", she said and snickered when her husband defended that he was over eighty years old and had been an athlete himself in his prime. "One was blond and white, the other was a darker type. Black hair and taller."

"Anything else?" Mary thought for a moment, her face going completely blank. Oh no, I hope she didn't forget all about it right now. Looks like it... Andy grimaced, but Mary waved a finger in front of her thoughtfully.

"Yes. Yes, there was. I watched them go, yes I did. They were running away, old sluggards, and very fast, too. Faster than my husband could run." At which point the conversation dissolved into friendly bickering again, which both amused and annoyed Andy in equal measure.

"Okay, thank you very much, Ma'am. If anything else comes to mind about the scene you witnessed here today, please come down to the precinct", Andy said, wisely not giving out her number. Surely the neighbors and their garage could be handled without the help of the police. After she'd taken down their contact information, Andy went over to Gail to present her findings.

"Congratulations. The price is searching the area for a box of trampled donuts. Good luck finding them in this chaos", Gail answered with a fake smile. Andy replied in kind, groaning under her breath. That was something she hadn't thought about: to verify the statement, she had to find the bag of groceries. Great.

"Well, I better get to it." And how she regretted those words. Because there wasn't anything on the sidewalks, on the pavement, in the nearby trashcan or in the store itself. At last she got down to her knees and looked underneath each parked vehicle on the road.

"Jackpot!" Andy reached, got hold of the damn thing and pulled the bag out from under a blue Sedan. It was crumpled and dirty, but still smelled deliciously of sugar and chocolate. And there was something metallic lying on top of it.

"Um, Gail? Could you come over, please?", Andy asked, staring at the small objects in front of her.

"Oh great, you found the donuts. Amazing", Gail teased, but her grin got smaller when she saw the whole bag. "And car keys. Those might actually be useful, McNally. Hey, what's wrong?"

"Those are Sam's keys, Gail."

"What? Are you sure?" With an unreadable expression, the blond officer knelt down beside Andy, taking a closer look at her friend's ashen face.

"Yes. Hundred percent. Sam was here this morning."

"So... where did he go?"


	3. Chapter 3

**V**

Sam was shivering violently. The rush of adrenaline had long worn off and the cold humid air was seeping into his bones. He'd been working feverishly on cutting his bonds, first trying to rub them against the headboard itself and when that didn't have any effect, he'd used the sharper edge between frame and supporting bars to slowly carve an edge into the ropes around his wrists. Unfortunately, the thousand unnecessary knots now hindered his efforts to flee, because he couldn't apply pressure to the important parts of the restraints. The angle was all wrong and his only achievement so far was a small fissure in the material and a ridden up shirt that would tell anybody with more than two brain cells what he'd been up to.

"Fantastic. I'm as much a screw-up as they are", he muttered in frustration.

"Aw, give yourself some credit, Detective", came the answer from the door. Sam blinked – he hadn't heard the middle-aged man come in, nor did he have any idea how long he'd been watching. Well, there was nothing to hide anyways.

"You must be Frankie", Sam said in greeting, very aware of his disheveled state. He didn't bother to comment when the newcomer wordlessly checked the boy's handiwork on the shackles. While Frankie installed one of the cardboard boxes next to the bed and made himself at home, Sam gave the new boss a once-over. His demeanor was calm, relaxed even, which made him a lot more dangerous than Des or Boyden. Although Sam tried to stay as composed as the criminal, he couldn't hide a flinch as Frankie scrutinized the blood on Sam's temple and then pulled his shirt further up to reveal the beginnings of dark purple bruises on his chest.

"Boyden did that?", Frank inquired earnestly. Sam didn't see the need to answer, he just eyed the criminal warily. After a while, Frankie nodded to himself and released the cloth.

"Boyden! C'mere, boy!" Like a child about to be scolded, Boyden waddled up to Frankie. His eyes were downcast, his whole posture screamed submission. This, most of all, gave Sam an insight into Frankie's character. What kind of person turned an arrogant alpha-male teenager into a groveling child? He didn't really want to find out.

"This", Frankie pointed at Sam's face and chest, "This makes me really sad. See, you can't deliver damaged goods and pretend nothing is wrong. You. Can't. Do. That!" With every accented word, Frankie struck Boyden with a hard backhand across the face. And Boyden just stood there, taking his punishment.

"Sorry, Frankie."

"Enough! I need you to understand. You lost me a lot of money with your childish temper."

"Money?", Boyden repeated, the greed already creeping back into his reddish features. Sam straightened on the bed and listened intently. The sinking feeling in his gut turned into something akin to panic as Frank continued his lesson.

"See, when you called me, I made a few calls myself. Turns out one of my buddies actually knows one Detective Sam Swarek, Fifteenth Division. He's willing to pay a lot of money to get his hands on him. But of course he wants him unharmed. And what do I tell him, trusting fellow as I am? Sure, my guys can handle that. But could you handle it, Boyden?"

"No. I'm sorry", Boyden said and fidgeted in front of Frankie's ice-cold stare. When the teenager turned away in shame, Sam took his chance to intervene before things truly got out of hand. How would his friends and colleagues ever find him if he was brought to another location? He'd have to get the third party out of the picture.

"My girlfriend will pay twice the price you're getting from whoever you've made a deal with", he said desperately. Frankie turned around and shook his head nonchalantly.

"I'm afraid I don't believe you, Detective. Nobody has that kind of money lying around."

"She does. She's a Peck." Well, Gail wasn't his girlfriend, but she'd be smart enough to pretend if Frankie called her. Sam hoped against all common sense that the criminal would actually take the offer and involve Officer Peck.

"Peck? Like the Superintendent? You have powerful friends. But even if your girlfriend and her brother weren't also with the police – oh, yes, I know all about them – I don't back out of deals once they're struck. Nobody smart would go behind their business partner's back. Especially not this time", Frankie said, holding up his hands when Sam tried to renegotiate. He wouldn't have known what else to offer anyways.

During the conversation, Boyden had hung back in the corner. Now he approached again, clearly trying to earn back Frankie's good graces. "Is there anything we can help you with? Des is upstairs and we'll do whatever you asked."

"Get the car." There was no emotion in the criminal's voice, which made Sam suspect that Boyden would have to do a lot better before he was forgiven. Not that he cared in particular, but he'd like a chance to talk to Des again. Maybe he could flip the kid and get him to help. However, when Boyden turned around again on his way up, all thoughts of an alliance with the large teenager were pushed out of Sam's head as Boyden asked the all important question.

"So... who are you selling him to?"

"The Brannigan's."

"Oh shit", Sam whispered and Frankie immediately diverted his attention from the youth. An entertained expression crossed his face while he sat down on the box again.

"So you know who I'm talking about. Interesting. Tell me more." Sam groaned, hitting himself mentally for his lapse of control. He shouldn't have spoken at all, should have kept his mouth shut and waited for a chance to escape. But Frankie's announcement had been too much of a shock. Yes, he'd met the Brannigan crime family, years ago on his first undercover assignment. He'd helped to put more than half of the wide-spread clan in jail.

**VI**

Andy's head was spinning. Even hours after they'd discovered the keys to Sam's car and apartment, she couldn't figure out what could have happened to make him leave them. If he had dropped them in shock as the window broke, why didn't he simply pick them up again later? If he had to take cover, why hadn't he come back for them? And why hadn't she called him when he hadn't shown up for work? Why? Now the guilt was eating her alive.

"I'm the worst girlfriend ever", she murmured gloomily, then tried to concentrate on the scene in front of her. On the other side of the glass, Detective Nash was interrogating a possible witness. His name was Jeremy Tobias Utah, probably the last person to have seen Sam alive. He was also the boy the old Lady Mary had described as the boy who'd been thrown through the window. Luckily, the woman had a great memory when it came to faces and the shop owner had been able to identify the kid when he saw the photofit picture.

And that's where the good new ended, because Jeremy wasn't cooperative at all, pretending he didn't know anything. In fact, Nash had been in there for hours and hadn't made any progress. During the whole conversation, Jeremy kept his hands in his lap and his eyes on his hands. When Tracy leaned forward, he glanced at her for a moment before resuming his curled-in position. A never-ending, useless circle. They'd never get the answers and they'd never find Sam.

"This isn't working", Andy growled, marched out of the room and opened the door to the interrogation chamber with a loud bang. However, even that didn't pull Jeremy out of his lethargy. Angrily, Andy hit the table with her flat hand, startling Jeremy to meet her eyes.

"One of ours is missing! Now you can either tell me what I want to know or I swear, I'll make your life miserable and never let you go!", she threatened.

"You wouldn't", Jeremy whispered, blue puppy-dog eyes wide. Andy slowly came over to his side of the table and circled him like a shark while Tracy shrugged apologetically.

"She might, actually. You don't know her like I do. She can be a real bitch." Behind the boy's back, Andy smiled grimly at her friend. Their game seemed to be working, Jeremy was sweating and clearly weighted his possibilities. Good, time to rise the stakes.

"Talk!", Andy shouted and brought her fist down right next to him, which made him jump slightly in his chair. Usually, the part of the bad cop didn't come to her naturally, but today it felt good to let some of the anxiousness go. Perhaps her performance was a bit over the top, though, which she realized as the door opened and Oliver ordered her outside.

"Too much?", Andy asked once they were standing in the hallway. She still had her arms crossed in front of her, trying to come back to her normal self. Oliver smiled at her, shaking his head once and giving Andy a chance to catch her breath.

"No. But he needs somebody he can trust. Now that you have pushed him, he'll hopefully open up to Detective Nash. Let's go and see", Oliver explained and Andy nodded. Together they entered the observation room, where half the precinct was gathered. Chloe and Dove were there, both of them expressing their worry by being utterly silent. Noelle was sitting on the only chair and Detective Peck was hovering in a corner. After he'd heard that Sam might have gone missing, he'd decided to stay, which gave him a lot of bonus points in Andy's book.

"She... she isn't coming back, is she?", Jeremy asked, visibly shaken up. Tracy smiled sympathetically, admitting she didn't know exactly. "Just give us your statement, please. I'll make sure nobody disturbs us."

"I... okay." All the tension seemed to seep out of the young man. "There were these guys that used to deal at my school. Boyden and Des. I... I owe them money, okay? More than I have right now, so I avoided them until... until..."

"Until they confronted you at the bakery this morning?", Tracy prompted cordially. She took one of Jeremy's hands and looked deeply into his eyes. Reassured, Jeremy continued, albeit with a quivering voice.

"Y-Yeah. They saw me and shot in the a-a-air to scare me. And they threw me through the window. Then the Detective – I didn't know he was a Detective – he tried to help me, but I was so scared and they were right behind me. I ran and he f-f-followed..."

"Who? Detective Swarek followed you?"

"Yeah. Him. But Boyden and Des, too. They caught up with me and the Detective. And then they told me to run. And... and... and I did. Oh god, I'm sorry. They had a gun and I just ran away", he said, crying now. Tracy held his hand and shot an irritated look at her audience, mouthing now what? at the window.

"We've got to find Boyden and Des!", Andy exclaimed and rushed out the door, followed by Dove, who worked his computer magic and found the two minor criminals in record time.

"Their real names are Boyden Malfone and Desmond Connigh. Apparently they were involved in a few misdeeds together", Dove reported. Andy scowled and grabbed the paper with the bios and the addresses on it.

"Wait a moment. What was the last name again? Connigh?", Detective Peck suddenly spoke up. He took a long look at the photos, then asked Dove to search for a connection to Frank Connigh.

"That's Desmond's uncle. Real nasty fellow, too. Why? Do you know him?", Dove asked and looked at the older Peck with a mixture of suspicion, admiration and surprise. The Detective didn't seem to notice, instead focusing his intense gaze on the whole group when he replied.

"I've met him before, but we weren't able to get him last time. He's got connections to the Brannigan crime family and is a big fish. Moreover, Sam and I worked the Brannigan case a few years back – we were both undercover. It was one of our first missions and believe it or not, Swarek was even more arrogant and self-assured than me. He got made about two months in. Thankfully, we were able to arrest most of them before the Brannigan's could act on their knowledge."

"Damn. What if they make the same connection we did?", Gail asked mercilessly and was met with a wall of silence. Tracy squeezed Andy's shoulder, but Andy shrugged her off to rise from her place on the edge of the table.

"Let's go and get him back!"


	4. Chapter 4

**VII**

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me your story?", Frankie repeated patiently, getting up from the box to untie Sam's feet. "Because if you don't, I don't have a reason not to deliver you to them." Sam smiled humorlessly at the criminal, not expecting for a moment that Frankie would reconsider selling him out. Hence, telling him about the Brannigan operation would only complicate things further, so he remained silent.

"Let's move out", Frankie said, snapping his fingers at Boyden. Both of them carefully undid the knot-work around Sam's ankles and wrists while the Detective watched them impatiently. Wait, he told himself. Wait a moment longer. Wait for the best chance. But damn, it was hard to stay placid while all his instincts urged him to run. Which of course was exactly what Frankie was expecting and why he was holding a black 9mm pistol with a silencer.

"Try to run and I shoot you", the criminal explained and waved Sam in front of him after Boyden had cuffed him with thick plastic zip ties. At least his feet were free, Sam argued, struggling to stay upright on his tingling legs. Frankie waited for his captive to stop swaying, then wordlessly pushed him up the stairs and through a tiny kitchen. There, Des was waiting, but he didn't get up from his chair and avoided eye-contact.

"Move." Out the back door they went, entering a dead-end street. The parked car was already waiting, its trunk open and only a few meters away. Boyden was grinning wickedly at Sam from the co-driver's seat, but the Detective ignored him, astonished by the red glow of the sun in the distance. Had he really spent a whole day in that cellar? No wonder he was feeling weak with hunger, considering his last meal had been more than eighteen hours ago.

"Get in. Now", Frank ordered cheerlessly.

"Alright, alright", Sam said, half-pretending to stumble on the threshold. When Frankie reflexively reached out to stabilize his prisoner, Sam brought back his head to slam their skulls against each other forcefully. The Detective then kicked out behind him, catching the criminal in the groin, before he took off through the alley as fast as his tired feet would let him.

"Oh, bollocks", Sam heard Frankie groan and allowed himself a small smile of victory. Just then a flame-hot pain raced through his right leg, instantly bringing him down. His face made contact with the asphalt as he agonizingly slid to a halt.

"Wh-what? You bastard shot me!", Sam exclaimed, hissing through his teeth. Once the initial shock wore off, he got to experience the whole sensation and nearly blacked out. Boyden whistled appreciatively and took a good look at the carnage, but it was Frankie who pulled the Detective back to the car. Each step vibrated through Sam's leg, who now wished he'd never tried something so stupid.

"Should have taken a piece of my own advice. Now the package is even less intact", Frankie muttered under his breath and grinned dryly at his semi-conscious captive. "And in the trunk you go. Could have had it easier, lad." Sam just groaned in return and closed his eyes.

**VIII**

The 911 call reached them while they were exiting the station. Andy froze on the spot, listening to Dove's voice that echoed through her microphone. "We just received an emergency call. Apparently a middle-aged man shot a dark haired stranger on Biltmore Avenue, then dragged the victim to a car and drove off. The witness didn't get a license plate, though."

"Gotta be Sam", Tracy pointed out. She and Detective Peck were rushing towards Peck's car, got in and turned on the engine. Oliver and Gail were waiting for Andy, who seemed rooted to the spot, her eyes wide with terror and grief. Finally, Oliver turned around and took hold of Andy's rigid body.

"He might still be alive. Sam Swarek is one of the toughest people I know", he said, looking a little helplessly. Andy gulped and clung to the straw as if to a lifeline.

"They shot him and dragged him into a car, but that doesn't... it doesn't mean. He's not... gone."

"Right. We've got to go now, McNally. He might need our help", Oliver urged, at which point Andy let herself be ushered into the backseat of the patrol car. She was blinking in slow-motion and both Gail and Oliver were beginning to worry, but after a minute, Andy suddenly snapped out of it.

"He isn't dead. As long as it isn't confirmed, he's still alive. And we're gonna find him", she said, shooting a death-glare at Gail's skeptical expression. "We are. And then I'm gonna kick Frankie's ass."

"That's my girl", Oliver muttered and drove like the devil himself. Nevertheless, when they reached the crime scene, Nash and the older Peck had already secured the area and were questioning the witness from the house across the street. Oliver, Gail and Andy got out quickly and efficiently began to work. Andy even managed to pretend the situation wasn't personal until Gail called out.

"There is a trail of blood over here", she stated. With a look at Andy, she added that it wasn't enough to jump to any conclusion. "It ends right next to where the witness saw the car, which backs up his testimony. I doubt we'll find anything out here, let's check inside."

"Good idea", Andy replied grimly and entered first, gun drawn. "Police! We're inside the house. Come out with your hands raised." Silence. After a moment of consideration, Andy chose the cellar door behind the dirty kitchen. "You and Oliver go upstairs", she directed, not caring who was the commanding officer. They needed to find Sam, nothing else mattered. Her steps faltered, though, as soon as she flipped on the light in the room and the sheen illuminated an old bed without a mattress. There were several pieces of rope left abandoned around its ends. And there was blood on one of the metal support bars. Sam's blood. At the thought of her boyfriend down here, Andy got sick to her stomach. Why hadn't she called him? Why hadn't she checked on him earlier?

"Shit", Gail uttered when she entered the cellar. They stared at each other until the two Detectives joined them with Oliver in tow. All faces were dark as none of them had any good news.

"We need another plan", Tracy conceded.

"We could look for the other kid... Desmond Connigh. Witness says he saw Boyden and Frankie in the car, but we might still find Desmond", Oliver suggested carefully, "He might have a thirty minute head start, but we have Dove. I'll get on it right away."

"Perfect", Gail interrupted, "What else is there? How do we find Detective Swarek?"

They thought about it for a minute, until Andy spoke. The words tasted like ash on her tongue, but she forced them out. "Let's play this through. You have a Detective in your nephew's basement. What do you do? Why bring him outside and risk detection?"

"Perhaps they were afraid that they would be discovered", Tracy responded uncertainly. It didn't make sense, though, with Jeremy being in protective custody the criminal's couldn't have known they were already being targeted.

"It's tricky, but it would be worth the risk if there was something bigger to gain. Like the money Frankie would receive if he sold Detective Swarek to the Brannigan family. He'd of course have to move Swarek to make the deal", Detective Peck said into the following silence.

"Shit", Gail repeated when nobody offered any alternatives. Andy had her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest, trying to shield herself from a reality where her boyfriend was most likely dead.

"We've got to do something", she whispered.

"There's one possibility, but the Captain won't like it", Detective Peck admitted after another pause, "I go back undercover. My identity should still be a secret and if we claim that I went to prison because of Swarek's testimony, I might be able to get through to where they're holding him."

"That's insane!", Tracy shouted, looking angrily at the blond man. He smiled at her outrage, then looked at Andy. "O'Sullivan, the local kingpin, he has a thing for pretty girls. I want you to come along, Gail looks too much like my sister."

"No. Absolutely not", Tracy said, "Andy is too close to this. Take me."

"Wrong skin color, no offense."

"Then... take Officer Price."

"Look, Tracy", Detective Peck said, stepping closer to the woman, "I need to convince a group of criminals that my new girlfriend wants to stay and watch me torture a guy. From what I heard, Officer Peck is a nice girl, but she wouldn't be able to pull it off. I need McNally."

"Fine! Fine. But you clear it with the Captain." He smiled at that, clearly at ease now that he'd won the argument. With a look at a very determined Andy, he strode out of the house. "No time to loose, let's get this party started."

**IX**

Even through his hazy vision, Sam recognized the red double doors in front of him. His personal gates of hell, formerly known as the entrance to one of O'Sullivan's clubs. For a moment he debated another flight, but he would never get away in his current state. They might have stopped at an abandoned parking lot to fix up his leg and might have injected him some pretty strong pain killers, yet his leg was still useless.

"Lean on my shoulder, tough boy", Boyden finally told him and Sam was too exhausted to object. His black hair was matted with sweat when they passed the outer doors, went down a stone stairwell and entered the wide open room where the dance floor had once been located. Due to Sam's heavy limp, they were only halfway across the bar area as two muscular men in intercepted them. Quickly, Boyden stepped aside, almost making Sam collapse in surprise. Only his pride kept the Detective upright, his fierce desire not to show how breakable he currently was.

"Frankie", the bigger of the two newcomers acknowledged and Sam remembered that rough, whisky-and-smoke voice. Connor had grown a curly beard and become a little gray, but the same wolfish eyes from years ago were examining the Detective.

"And little Sammy. A pleasure to meet you again."

"Can't say I missed you much", Sam replied and showed his teeth in an attempt of a smile. The Irishman did bark a short laughter, then he punched Sam right in the face, forcing him to stumble and put weight on his bad leg. All color vanished from Sam's features as he tried to stand upright again. Before either of them could comment, Frankie interrupted gently.

"I'd like to close the deal now. Considering his state, I'm willing to lower the price one third."

"That's fair", Connor said and snapped his finger at his companion, who produced a black suitcase, the like of which were carried by lawyers. Seconds stretched into minutes while Frankie counted one third of the money and set it back on the counter of the bar.

"I'll show you to the door", Connor's partner suggested smoothly as soon as Frankie was done. Together with Boyden, they disappeared around the corner.

"Alone at last", Connor said and Sam didn't like the satisfied gleam in his green eyes one bit. However, with only one Irish criminal present, he might get one last chance to escape. His bound hands itched to be free and even the odds a little, but his mind was already working on the escape route. Back when he'd been working here as a bouncer, there had been a back exit. Cautiously, Sam tried to back off a few steps and promptly collided with the lackey's chest. How had that guy returned so fast?

"Damn", Sam muttered when thick hands clamped down on his shoulders, "Guess I won't be going anywhere any time soon."

Connor barked again and rolled up the long sleeves of his lumberjack shirt. "No, Sammy. You won't be leaving."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hey guys! Lately I received multiple PMs that complained about the story's focus on Andy's and Sam's relationship. Sorry, but this was always planned as a McSwarek story. Don't like, don't read! ;)

Furthermore, I'd like to give special thanks to **kate1701**, **lilou**,** jh126**, **stefrosacarnevale**, **AllMcSwarek** and **linda p**. for their continued support. But of course I'm grateful for all my readers and their numerous reviews - you guys rock! Your posts are what keeps me going, so thanks a lot!

* * *

**X**

"You've got to be kidding me!", Andy exclaimed. She was standing in front of a floor-length mirror, staring at the shortest skirt she'd ever seen. Combined with the beige leather top that managed to be even sluttier than the skirt, she positively could have given a hooker a run for his money.

"Suits you", Nick commented with a sly grin. Andy threw her socks at him and glared at everybody who'd dared to chuckle at his statement. The zipper on the front of her top was itching when she turned around and strode out the door, trying to keep her balance on the shiny black high heels. When she saw Detective Peck's outfit, a red-and-black chequered shirt, paired with tattered jeans – jeans! - her outrage multiplied again.

"I'm not wearing this", she said matter-of-factly. The blond Detective looked her over and nodded. "This will do."

"Did you hear me? I'm not wearing this. I'm gonna go change right now, be back in five." Her black skirt swirled up dangerously high when she turned around. Before she could take another step, the older Peck took hold of her elbow and stopped her.

"Officer McNally. Do you think I was joking when I recommended you wear clothes like this? You need to seduce a criminal simply by being in the same room with him. You need to divert his attention from the fact that he hasn't seen me in years, thus having no reason to trust me."

"I could have done it in something classier", Andy protested, more quietly this time.

"Perhaps. But could you also have convinced him that you were happily in love with a lowlife criminal and had a sadistic streak, all the while wearing a pink cocktail dress?"

"Okay, okay, I get it." She held her hands up in surrender, inwardly ashamed that they were even arguing about dress code at a time like this. To make up for her failure, she kept her mouth shut while the others discussed last-minute details of the op. They wouldn't be able to bring any weapons past the security at the door, instead opting for a tiny transmitter embedded in Andy's earring and a tracking device in the car.

"Push the shiny part in the middle once to start sending. Once more if you're in trouble. Thrice if you found Sam and need backup", Dove explained and retreated once Andy nodded understanding. Soon, she and Detective Peck were sitting in an old BMW. Peck seemed completely relaxed, brandishing a tattoo on his neck and looking very much the gang member they needed everyone to believe he was. Suddenly, Andy felt insecure.

"Um... Detective?"

"It's Steve from now on", he replied and glanced at her. Without further comment, he explained exactly what he wanted her to do. "Your name is Aline. Seduce them. Be clingy but and extrovert to the point of being brash. Don't be intimidated, be impressed. Play naive if you have to. You like my darker side, remember?"

"Yeah, got it", Andy said and saluted him, bringing her fingers deliberately across her decollete on the way back. Steve's mouth curled into a half-smile. "Perfect."

He parked the car behind a club downtown, got out and lead Andy towards a back entrance. She could hear techno music and laughter through the walls and wished that she were here with Sam, out to have a few drinks and dance. He'd make jokes about her outfit but like it nevertheless. Instead, she clung to Steve's arm as the Detective had a short discussion with the bouncer. When Steve mentioned the name O'Sullivan, the man opened the door and followed them inside, ushering them into a small room with another door to a back chamber.

"I'm gonna have to search you", he said. Steve stood still while the man did his job and smiled when Andy called the Irishman a pervert. "Where would I hide a gun in this dress?"

"Babe, leave it be", Steve interjected, earning a grateful expression from the bouncer. Less than a minute later, they were standing in the next room, opposite a man in a dark suit. Andy didn't know what she had expected, but glasses and long hair certainly were a surprise. Yet there was no doubt that this was O'Sullivan, judging from the respect everybody treated him with.

"Steve Warren! Haven't aged a bit! What brings you to my part of town after all this time?" Straight to business, then, Andy thought and was almost grateful when the man's gaze lingered on her body for a few seconds before he pulled his attention back to Steve.

"Heard you got yourself a certain policeman", Steve said with a slight accent. Even his stance had changed since they'd gotten out of the car. Impressive.

"That's none of your business." Suddenly, all the warmth in O'Sullivan's voice was gone, replaced by cold eyes and obvious mistrust. My job to soften him up a little before we get kicked out, Andy realized and went to work.

Her hand slowly stroked Steve's chest while she transfixed O'Sullivan with her big, pleading eyes. "But my baby went to jail because of that son of a bitch. He couldn't see me for three years and it's all the fault of that policeman. It ain't fair. Please, would you help my baby get his revenge?"

"Is that true?", O'Sullivan asked sharply. Steve confirmed and stated he'd even been shipped back into his home country, that's why he hadn't stayed in touch. "Bloody coppers", O'Sullivan muttered, then he took a long step towards Andy, which in reaction made Detective Peck to hold her closer.

"And why would you bring your... girlfriend with you on an occasion like this?" Andy could practically see him lick his lips and was both disgusted and relieved. Thank God she hadn't changed back into jeans and t-shirt.

"I like to watch", she answered suggestively, which made him laugh.

"She's a handful", he said and pointed a finger at Andy. Steve smiled and grabbed her ass.

"Oh yeah, but it's definitely worth it."

"Is that so?", O'Sullivan repeated lazily, then caught himself and returned to the topic at hand. "Assuming I had indeed found a certain Detective, what would you like me to do?"

"Give me a chance to teach the fucker a lesson myself!", Steve responded with gusto. For a second, Andy got a glimpse at a different kind of person and was almost scared of the man that held her. Then she blinked and the feeling was gone.

"Alright, have your fun. Johnny will drive you." Oh no, Andy thought, as she remembered the tracker beneath their car's engine. Still, she wouldn't risk finding Sam by making the stupid request to take their own vehicle, so she smiled sweetly at the criminal. "Thank you very much, Mister."

On their way to the car, Andy leaned over to Steve and pretended to whisper something slutty in his ear. "That was easy", she remarked instead and got into the backseat of a car when the bouncer from the club opened the door. Steve sat down right next to her and crushed her high hopes when he returned the favor and whispered: "I don't think he fully bought it. There's a car following us with his guys in it."

"Is that gonna be a problem?", Andy asked, earning a strange look from the driver. Steve smiled and draped an arm around her. "No, baby, that's no problem at all." Then why didn't she believe him? Her mouth was dry, her stomach churned and she constantly had to resist the urge to turn around and see the men with her own eyes. When the car finally came to a halt in front of a warehouse, she was thankful to get out.

"Pretty", she commented sarcastically and let herself be guided towards the huge entrance, where a guard was fighting off boredom by using his smartphone. Now that they were near, she could see that the paint was flaking off the dirty building's facade and the whole place seemed run-down. Abandoned. Perfect if you wanted space and loneliness, say, in order to hide a prisoner. Sam had to be here.

Andy was lost in thought so deep she jumped when the doors opened right before they had time to grab the handles themselves. Suddenly, she was staring into the surprised faces of Frankie and Boyden Connigh. It was so surreal that Andy only managed a quick "Hi." before Steve pushed her past the two criminals into the gloom of the building. Frankie's gaze followed them, his brow creased in confusion. Then his features cleared, he shouted "Peck!" and went for his gun, but Steve was faster. While Andy stood by, the Detective grabbed Frankie's wrist, turned him around and pushed the man fully out onto the parking lot, also managing to pull the pistol out of the Irishman's waistband.

"Go!", Steve yelled at Andy, who was now busy giving Boyden the same treatment his uncle had received. Together they closed the double doors and locked them with a heavy bolt.

"What the hell happened?", Andy gasped, leaning against the wall. Although whole interlude had only lasted seconds, she and Steve were both breathing faster than usual.

"He must have recognized me. Damn, I didn't think he'd remember me after all this time", Steve answered, then grimaced as they heard someone trying to get in. So far, they weren't doing much damage to the think iron door, but they'd gain access eventually.

"What now?", Andy asked, only to be interrupted by a scream from downstairs. Immediately all her concerns for her safety were pushed into the background. She knew that voice, had heard it countless times, giving orders, arguing, laughing, joking, but never crying out in pain. Sam! Without thought, she sprinted down the stairs.

"Aline!", Steve shouted and caught up with her just as she turned the last corner. Andy froze when she saw the scene in front of her. Her boyfriend was sitting on a chair at the back of the room, his hands tied in front of him. There were bruises on his face, blood on his shirt and even more blood on his jeans. Sam was hunched over, but at the sound he lifted his head and looked right at her, his warm brown eyes widening in shock. He obviously wanted to say something, but caught himself at the last moment, possibly because a knife was pressed to his throat. The man holding it surveyed her with a predatory smile while his slightly smaller companion focused solely on Detective Peck.

"Aline, baby, are you okay?", Steve asked loudly and turned her around to face him. Andy needed a moment to calm her racing heart, then she nodded at the Detective. "I'm fine. Sorry I took off, I was just... curious." With a strained smile, he stroked her hair and simultaneously pushed the transmitter three times.

"Steve Warren. O'Sullivan said you'd come. This is turning into an interesting evening", the companion said snidely. Steve turned his attention away from Andy and strode through the open space confidently while she followed close behind. All the while, she couldn't take her eyes off Sam. He was alive! Now all they had to do was get that dreadful knife away from his neck and him safely out of here. But how?

"Johnny. Connor", the Detective greeted when they'd reached the small group.

"Sorry, I can't shake hands right now, I'm a tad busy", Connor lamented and pulled the knife down a little, just close enough to Sam's skin to draw a few drops of blood. Sam winced but held very still, trying not to exacerbate the damage. Everything within Andy screamed to make that man stop, but she had to be clever with this, so she pretended to be hugely entertained. She didn't even have to pretend breathlessness when she asked whether she could try, too.

"My kind of girl", Johnny laughed, "C'mon, let her play a little."

"Fine", Connor said and stepped back reluctantly. His fingers were cold on Andy's, but he gave the weapon over without further discussion, even though he stayed very close. Sam let out a relieved breath, only to suck it back in as Andy forcefully gripped his hair and tilted his head back. Their eyes met the same instance he felt the cool blade against his skin.

"Hi, Sam", she whispered and held his gaze for a moment. Then she whipped her hand around and plunged the knife deep into Connor's thigh. And that's when all hell broke loose.

* * *

**A/N**: And for all those of you who are wondering about Andy's outfit, imagine this with a skirt:

images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTpmv56h-Y3UWitaeV8J3A48n8kvJE6-fwH8SDElpcD1mvflx0EFg


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: Hey guys, sorry for the wait. It's due to a severe case of writer's block. I'm still not happy about the chapter, but I hope you can give me some feedback and criticism. Enjoy!

**XI**

What the hell is she wearing? That skirt is entirely... Oh, get a grip, Sam scolded himself silently, now is not the time. He kept staring, though, staring at his beautiful girlfriend that had just entered the warehouse. Was he hallucinating? And if so, why was Detective Peck following Andy? No, this was real, so very real it hurt. Connor's knife nicked his skin, but Sam hardly felt it. At least the burning helped to fight off the strange sense of vertigo that had befallen him around the time she had entered.

While he still tried to find out what was going on, Andy had been discussing something with Connor, then she was given the knife. Clever girl, playing those criminals like dolls, Sam thought in amazement. Suddenly she was close, roughly jerked his head back and thereby allowed him to look directly into her soulful brown eyes. One could easily get lost in those eyes.

"Hi, Sam", she said and he could see the beginning of a smile form on her lips. For a second, he assumed the expression was directed at him, but then he felt her grip change slightly and realized that this was her dangerous, I'm-going-to-break-the-rules-now smile.

As soon as she exploded into action, Sam was ready and let himself fall to the ground, out of Connor's reach. My turn. With that idea in mind, he rolled, ignored the horrible pain in his leg and rose right behind Johnny, who didn't see his demise coming. Sam used his tied wrists to pull the Irishman into a tight choke-hold after Peck had thrown the criminal off his balance with a quick punch to the jaw. Johnny's right hand was clawing at Sam's grip, but his left was struggling to reach the gun in his belt and turn the tables again. Detective Peck and Sam both realized it just in time to prevent the action. Relentlessly, Sam leaned backwards as far as he could, pulling Johnny to the tips of his toes and increasing the pressure to his windpipe so the criminal had to draw on the strength of both arms to keep up his supply of air. Meanwhile, Peck dodged the kicking feet and used the distraction to grab the weapon.

"Check the legs. He usually carries two", Sam advised, breathing hard. He sank down into a sitting position when Johnny became dead weight in his arms. They sat like father and child in an embrace, much of Johnny's body lying sprawled across Sam's lap. Soon the Detective noticed with a frustrated sigh that he couldn't get up from his awkward position.

"Need a hand?", Steve asked and Sam nodded gratefully.

"Thanks, man", he said and meant much more than the simple gesture that pulled him back to his feet. Quickly, he turned around to assist Andy, then smiled when Steve rightly observed that she had things under control. In fact, Connor was lying on the ground with a split lip and a deep gash in his leg whereas Andy seemed unharmed and ready to take on an army. Sam on the other hand didn't want to waste time on the two gangsters, longing instead for a well-cooked meal, a warm bed and Andy's charming company.

"Let's get out of here", he suggested and held out his hands when Andy came over with the knife. She efficiently cut the plastic bonds, allowing Sam's blood to flow freely again. However, it also showed off the impressive variety of blue and reddish abrasions he'd received from the fall in the street and the rope burns from earlier. Still, it was okay, it would heal.

"I'm fine. Just need to leave here", he reassured his girlfriend when he saw her distraught expression. Detective Peck groaned and admitted that getting out might be a problem. "See, we barred the door upstairs. There are about a dozen Brannigans trying to get in."

"A dozen?", Sam repeated and blinked slowly, trying to clear the dizziness from his mind. Why on earth would O'Sullivan ever station so many of his men to watch a single, injured hostage? Paranoia was one thing, but that move bordered on madness.

"Well, there were two guards. Then there are about five guys that followed our car after we met the big boss, plus our driver – who's also one of the bad guys -, and last but not least, there are Boyden and Frankie", Andy explained and ticked them off with her fingers while she counted. Sam wanted to comment, but the instance he opened his mouth to ask one of his billion questions, something upstairs exploded and he changed his mind.

"Run!" Together, they made for the exit behind the bar. Sam was stumbling along, refusing to be a burden. His face went white as the pain hit him, proving that the pain medication must be wearing off, which couldn't have happened at a worse moment. As if she'd read his mind, Andy turned around and asked whether he was okay.

"Yeah", he said and froze when he met her gaze. Behind her, the back exit had swung open. Sam only saw the black outline of bodies, knew that it was too early for backup too have arrived and reacted on instinct. "Get down!", he shouted in alarm and already shoved Andy through a half-opened door on the side of the hallway. A spray of bullets was raining down on them and missed him by inches, so Sam quickly followed suit and ducked into the room. Steve nearly bowled him over when he dived in after them.

"Fuck. Where are we? And who the hell are they?", Steve wanted to know and hit the dirty wall as hard as he could.

"Ladies' bathroom", Sam informed the others and sank down against one of the stalls, close to blacking out from fatigue. His body was shaking with adrenaline and his his hands clutched Johnny's second gun, although he didn't know how much use he'd be in a shootout. Dizziness and nausea rolled over him in long waves and Sam knew he couldn't last much longer. At least the room's layout provided decent cover, he thought, because the door only led to the washbasins while the toilets had to be accessed through another doorway and around a 90 degree corner. Andy and Steve had already taken positions and were waiting for the inevitable attack. They were all rather shocked when Connor's voice resounded.

"You alright in there?"

"Yeah, peachy!", Sam shouted back, then coughed and decided to be silent from now on and go easy his raw throat. Andy's amused grin made up for it, though.

"We've got you outgunned and outnumbered, you don't stand a chance", Connor stated and almost sounded sorry about it. "You know, Steve, I never took you for a cop. Little Sammy, yes, him I did suspect, but you... I always liked you."

"Er, thanks?", Steve replied and glanced at Andy, who shrugged to acknowledge that she had no idea where this was going either. Nevertheless, talking meant less shooting. And less shooting was good.

"You and your girl Aline can still get out of this alive! You don't need to die here, man. C'mon, think! Is he really worth it?", Connor's voice echoed through the chamber. And although Sam had never doubted his colleague, he winced when he heard the offer. Even more so as he noticed the long meaningful look between Steve and Andy.

"Yes, absolutely!", they answered in unison. Sam sighed, smiled and closed his eyes, reassured that he was finally safe.

**XII**

"What a jerk!", Andy hissed in anger, "trying to pit us against each other like that. Thank God we know each other so well, this could have been embarrassing." Steve nodded and checked his gun again. They both heard the movement directly behind the door and got ready to protect themselves with all they had.

"Unfortunately this also seems to herald the end of negotiations", Detective Peck noted, grimacing when the first bullet hit the wall next to his head. Tiles broke and dust rose as they replied in kind, only to retreat again behind the corner.

"Use your bullets sparingly, we don't have extra ammo." Good advice, but Andy didn't know how to heed it. Her ears were ringing from the shots and their echoes in the small room, her sight was greatly diminished and her aim with the unfamiliar weapon hadn't been great to start with. But every time she saw a target, she tried to hit, meaning she ran out of bullets in less than a minute. Nonetheless a part of her was glad when she shouted that she was out, because even though it had been kill or be killed, she felt bad for shooting with the intention to kill. It wasn't right.

Perhaps she was careless, preoccupied with her guilty conscience. All she knew was that one moment she was fine, working to keep herself and her friends alive. Then suddenly a ripping pain tore through her body and she fell, face first, to the ground.

"Andy! Andy, are you okay?" Steve's voice was tinged with worry, yet Andy couldn't find an answer. Was she hurt? Was she dying? Groaning, she rolled around and carefully moved further out of the line of fire. Her legs and stomach seemed fine, knees bruised from falling but otherwise okay. Fingers could move... aaah. Right shoulder. Andy bit down on her lips to stifle a cry, not wanting to alert Sam and Steve.

"I'm hit", she admitted tensely and winced when Steve emptied his clip into the opening to the hallway to fight off the advancing Brannigans. She watched as he blindly gripped the last gun, keeping his eyes trained on the door. Andy noticed the smudges of dirt on his face. It was terribly dirty here, layers upon layers of old trash now powdered with broken ceramic. And bloodstains, there were fine red dots on the wall behind her and a bigger pool next to Sam's body.

"Why is he bleeding again?", she asked herself slowly, blinking in slow-motion a few times. The rational part of her brain argued that the movement must have reopened his wounds, but the thought was lost somewhere on the way. She'd been injured and was in shock, making her brain slow down. Her heart, however, skipped a beat when she became aware of her boyfriend's deathly pallor and suddenly her concern overrode anything else.

"Sam? Sam!" Andy quickly scooted over to him. He wasn't moving, not even when she shook him. His head was lolling to the side and his chest slid further down the wall. "Sam! Sam!", she screamed repeatedly, unaware of her surroundings. It wasn't until someone pulled her away from him that she noticed the fighting was over. There were officers all around her, interviewing Detective Peck, marking evidence, arresting people. Andy didn't care, all that mattered was Sam's battered frame. She was staring blankly into Oliver's eyes as he held her back so the medics could rush in. He was talking, but she couldn't hear a thing. "He's not waking up. He's not waking up and I don't think I felt a pulse", she stated with tears streaming down her face.


	7. Chapter 7

**XIII**

Andy sat in the waiting room, her head hidden in her hands. She hadn't spoken much, neither with Oliver nor with the doctor that had bandaged the flesh wound in her arm. Now, hours later, her colleagues were beginning to worry about the unusual silence. Finally, Detective Nash took heart and approached the brunette.

"I'm sure he's going to be fine. You did all you could." It was meant to be soothing, but her friend winced as if being hit. When she met Tracy's gaze, there was an angry fire burning in her eyes. "No! That's just it. I should have helped him when I had the chance", she replied so loudly she was almost screaming. Chris and Dov inconspicuously left the room.

"You went undercover. You found him. You saved his ass during the shootout", Tracy listed, at which point Andy snorted and interrupted her: "I knew he was injured. I didn't check on him. Sure, I asked whether he was okay, but he's... Sam. Of course he'd say he was fine. I should have known! I should have been attentive! That's my job, for god's sake!"

For a moment, Tracy was speechless. "You can't blame yourself. That's madness."

"Then I'm a lunatic," Andy retorted snidely and pushed herself off the plastic chair when her friend tried to offer comfort with her presence. "And you know what's worse? Now... this... this waiting, it drives me crazy. I need to do something or else I'll explode."

"Go get yourself a coffee," Tracy advised and firmly pushed Andy towards the door. "And take the stairs. You look like you need to burn some energy."

"Yeah." With one last lingering look at the glass door that labeled Employees only beyond this point, she set off. Her mind was spinning, but after a few floors the focus on her burning muscles helped to set her at ease. Yes, she had screwed up. Majorly. But Sam would forgive her. He'd make it and get better. He had to. Suddenly bone tired, Andy crossed the foyer and joined the line for the hot beverages. Her arm and shoulder ached, but it was a distant discomfort compared to the mental torment.

"One coffee, black" she told the young man across the counter, glad to receive a steaming plastic cup right away. Without another look, she turned and slumped down on one of the hard chairs in the area. Take a deep breath, she told herself, feeling sleep creep up to her. For a second she considered to let herself drift off, however most of her was unwilling to let go. What if Sam woke up? What if something happened while she was out?

"Speaking of which... what is going on?," Andy asked, standing up and walking over to the officer at the building's entrance. Moments ago, he'd looked as close to sleep as she was, now he was busily speaking into his mic. Furthermore, she'd seen multiple patrol cars rushing by. When she came close, the officer stopped abruptly and stared down at her, obviously mistaking her for a civilian. What was his name? He was working out of the 24th. Damil... no, Daryl.

"Officer Daryl, tell me what's going on."

"McNally?," he asked sheepishly, then nodded to himself and explained the ruckus. "There has been a robbery a few blocks down. Shots fired. Multiple hostages. All personnel is being requested as backup. Sorry, I've got to go."

"Wait!" Andy yelled, every cell in her body yearning to go with him. Have some action, protect the city. At the same time her fierce desire to be there for Sam pulled her back. She couldn't leave him after all that had happened. Not this time. Decision made, Andy shook her head and waved the officer away. "Nothing. Be safe, Daryl."

I could be out there, the mean little voice in the back of her head whispered, I could help. But not this time, all her nervous energy be damned. Andy watched the officer leave with a feeling akin to envy, then blinked rapidly when she spotted a familiar car parking a few meters down the road.

"It can't be!", she muttered, dropped the coffee cup onto a nearby table and went to investigate. The same type of car had parked in front of the warehouse where she'd found Sam. Same color. Same make. Same license plate? Her fingers were searching for the weapon on her hip until she belatedly realized she'd changed into comfortable sweatpants and a red cotton shirt.

Andy slowed her pace and cautiously approached the vehicle, which seemed to be occupied. Why? It made no sense to sit in a car when you should be on the run. Perhaps she was mistaken and the driver would turn out to be a model citizen. Except that he wasn't, already Andy recognized the hat and the familiar build of Frankie Connigh. After a moment of hesitation and utter lack of comprehension, her curiosity won over and she politely tapped on the side window.

The expression of surprise on his face was priceless and under different circumstances Andy would have laughed or snapped a picture. Instead she bent down when he rolled down the window and asked him what he was doing here.

"Just finishing some business, dear."

"Like what?" The hair on her neck rose, a chill creeping down her spine. Frankie hadn't struck her as the reckless type, which meant he wasn't extending his stay just for kicks. And her deductions were immediately confirmed by the behavior of the criminal, whose eyes narrowed while he was clearly waging his options. Well, she could speed up that part.

"I only need to shout once and the officers around the corner will hear. You won't make it one block."

"True. But I suspect that you will let me go if I tell you why I'm here." No. And yesterday she would have told him so, but with Sam's lifeless frame fresh in her mind, she reconsidered, admitting to herself that right now she would put Sam's welfare above anything else. "Depends on the information."

"I'm just the getaway driver, my dear. While we're having this pleasant conversation, Mr. O'Sullivan is on his way up to kill your colleague", said Frankie, his voice low and uninterested. But behind his weasel eyes, she saw the knowing glint. He knew exactly how impossible the decision was. She could scream, wait until the officers came and make sure the criminal was arrested. Or she could leave him be, save precious seconds to on her way back to Sam.

What if he was lying? Then she'd be the fool. What if Tracy had stayed behind and had not responded to the emergency call? Surely somebody would have stood watch. Of course they would have. There was no reason for her heart to stop and her pulse to race. She didn't need to make that cruel choice.

"Damn it all to hell!" Without another thought, she turned around and ran like never before.

**XIV**

The constant beeping in the darkness somehow reassured him. Slowly, bit by bit, Sam pulled himself to a state of wakefulness, lifting his heavy eyelids to find himself in a clean, white room. Hospital, his brain supplied after a pause. Heart monitor making sounds. Bloodloss. ICU. Brannigans. Andy.

While his thoughts flashed back and forth in order to make sense of things, Sam listened to the quiet in the hall. A pang of bitterness hit him when he finally concluded that he was alone. Where was everybody? He knew his friends and colleagues were busy people, but shouldn't there be somebody... anybody here to watch him? Waiting for him to wake up? He'd done it countless times for other people. But perhaps they weren't allowed in.

Satisfied by that explanation, Sam settled into the thick pillows. His rest was soon interrupted by steps in the hallway, though. A friendly face poked around the corner. "Oh, you're awake."

Sam smiled at the unknown woman, although she was kind of stating the obvious. "Yes", he answered, equally obvious. The nurse came in, chatting animatedly about the great recovery he was about to make while checking his pulse and blood pressure. "You also had loads of visitors that were waiting outside", she informed him with a kind expression. Now, the skin around her eyes was wrinkled even more and gave her that generous grandma look. In contrast, Sam frowned. He hadn't missed how she'd used past tense.

"Had?" Of course he didn't mean to be ungrateful, but why had they left? How long had he been lying here? "What day is it?"

"Still Wednesday, honey. It's half past seven in the morning. You've been in surgery for two hours and slept another four. Your friends left about ten minutes ago, rather abruptly if you ask me", she informed him, then bustled out the door before he could inquire about anything else. Confusion settled in after she left, accompanied with an uneasy feeling he couldn't quite identify. Hence he tensed when another, heavier set of feet could be heard in the hallway. He was still shocked, though, when none other than Liam O'Sullivan appeared in the doorway.

"Sammie!" Cheerful bastard.

Sam coughed and stared unbelievingly at the slim figure before him, that was sporting a gun in one hand and an chocolate ice cream cone in the other. "Ice cream?" The words tumbling out of Sam's mouth, who was half convinced again that he was hallucinating. The local leader of the Brannigans had always had a reputation for being queer, but snacking on candy while carrying out what could only be an execution? That was a whole new level of crazy. Also, how the hell did he get in here?!

"Ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that", O'Sullivan admonished and casually waved a small revolver in his other hand around. Immediately Sam froze, his fingers only inches away from the call-button that would summon the nurses and hopefully reinforcements. It had been the obvious thing to do from the beginning and Sam cursed himself for missing his chance when O'Sullivan had been entering.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be somewhere far away by now?", Sam wanted to know while still fighting his drowsy body. His mind needed to work properly if he wanted to survive this. Stalling seemed the best, the only, choice. But what for? How long until the nurse decided to come back? Probably a lot longer than the criminal's patience would last. Already he could see the small signs of restlessness, for instance the fact that he constantly shifted the hold on his weapon. Nevertheless, when he spoke, his voice was pleasant as ever, fooling Sam for a moment that O'Sullivan might actually be reasonable. That feeling lasted until the words made impact.

"In general, that's a fantastic idea, Sammie, but I'm screwed either way. See, my superiors are greatly disappointed by my poor performance. If I come crawling back, I'll likely be shot on sight."

Swallowing carefully, Sam nodded understanding. The Irish weren't the forgiving kind, especially after they'd invested into an enterprise and then lost their money.

"And now you're here why?", he asked, although he had a hunch that he wouldn't be happy with the answer. The criminal pushed his glasses further up his thin nose in a business-like manner, then stepped closer to the bed and bend down. "If I am caught, I'll at least finally finish you off beforehand and thereby placate my European friends."

"You don't have to do this", Sam argued, but it was a weak sound and wasn't rewarded with any sudden outbursts of qualms, which the cop hadn't anticipated to begin with.

"I know. But I want to, because...", O'Sullivan began, bringing the gun up. Just then a dark shape barreled into him and stopped the conversation short.

* * *

**A/N:** Phewwwww. I don't think I ever struggled so much to write a single chapter. Glad it's finally done. Do you like it?  
I don't know how many of you stuck with this story, but to those still with me: thanks a lot! I promise the next chapter will be up soon.


	8. Chapter 8

**XV**

Andy had been out of breath long before she'd reached the floor Sam was stationed on. Yet she didn't allow herself to slow down, pushing her muscles to new bests with the help of the adrenaline that was pounding through her veins in abundance. The whole time, she couldn't help but imagine the worst scenarios: Sam dead, Sam lying in a pool of blood with O'Sullivan standing over him.

"No. I'll be there to stop it", she grunted, pushing open the door into the unpopulated hallway. Without a second look, she sprinted past the nurses' recreation room, eliciting several shouts of surprise and anger. Perhaps they'd follow her. Andy smiled grimly. If they did, they could clean up the mess after she was through with O'Sullivan. Yes, she knew that she behaving like Momma Bear, but that was part of her being. Protecting her loved ones was pure instinct. And this was about Sam of all people.

Some part of her wondered whether she'd loose her job over this disaster and whether she had just been played like a rookie. Frankie might have lied, which would result in her being the joke of the house for months. Andy wasn't sure how she'd react to the constant humiliation, but the one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that she'd never forgive herself if she let her boyfriend get hurt any further. Again she increased her speed and saw light shining out of Sam's room, which could have been normal or which might be a clue that he was not alone in there.

When she heard voices arguing within, she finally had indisputable proof that Frankie had indeed told the truth. It was O'Sullivan, come to finish what he'd started and messed up multiple times. "But not on my watch", Andy hissed with conviction. There was no time to cautiously approach, hence she chose to surprise the men. Rounding the corner as fast as her body would allow, sneakers skidding on the gray hospital floor, she threw herself at the person that was standing next to the bed.

Her momentum knocked him off his feet and catapulted them against the far wall.

Andy could feel the breath explode out of O'Sullivan's chest and satisfaction spread through her when she punched him straight on the nose. His head banged against the floor, but the criminal proved resilient and used his superior strength to grip her shoulders in an attempt to roll around. Unwilling to let herself be pinned down, Andy brought up her knee, which connected beautifully with his groin, making him swear. He retaliated with the speed of a cobra, feigning an uppercut while really aiming for her chest. Andy had been too preoccupied with protecting her face and couldn't block the series of quick punches to her ribs.

Now she was the one swearing and gasping for breath, even more so when his next blow hit her sternum. Collapsing a little, she got a glimpse of his face: red with fury, glasses lost somewhere during the struggle, but smiling at her pain. What an arrogant asshole, I'll wipe that grin right off your face, she thought and again her fist forcefully met his nose.

"Watch out!", Sam warned her and Andy barely had time to evade O'Sullivan's grasping hands. In order to keep him at distance, she gripped his carefully styled hair and pulled as hard as she could. So what if she was not fighting fair? Neither was he, intending to kill an injured man. Nope, Andy did not feel any guilt as O'Sullivan screamed. Unfortunately, he also used the momentum to seize her by the arm and pull her with him as he fell onto his back. Still furious, Andy didn't resist and instead let herself fall down on top of him and bashed her head against his. It hurt, but Andy knew it hurt O'Sullivan worse, which made it okay. The knee to the ribs should also hurt his ribs a lot more than her knee. Yes, if the groan was any indication, she'd been right.

However, the small rational part of her brain knew that she couldn't win as long as they stayed on the ground where his weight would eventually overpower her, thus Andy tried to get up. She was nearly back on her feet when she realized that O'Sullivan had anticipated that move. Suddenly her her legs were kicked out from under her and her falling body was then welcomed with a wicked elbow to the temple. Dazed, Andy was too slow to prevent him from catching her and putting his arm around her throat. Her ears were ringing and there didn't seem to be enough oxygen in the air.

Only now she fully registered Sam's voice. "Let her go. Right now!"

"Sam!" Her eyes went wide at the sight of him. He was kneeling on the ground, sweating and looking terribly exhausted. In his shaking hands, the gun, pointed at her and O'Sullivan.

There was a moment of silence, which was only interrupted by the angry beeping from the monitors. In order to get off the bed, Sam had ripped out the IV, yet there were no nurses coming to storm the castle.

The criminal with the bloody nose began to giggle. Andy thought she was hallucinating from lack of air, but even after she'd leaned into O'Sullivan and could breathe more easily, the decidedly mad sound continued.

"You… you're… actually gonna try and shoot?", O'Sullivan finally managed to ask. Andy failed to see how the situation was funny, still trying hard to dislodge the criminal's hold on her. She kept her eyes trained on Sam's face, though, both because she desperately needed to know whether he was okay and because she didn't want to look at the gun. In turn, Sam's warm brown eyes were searching her face for something. "The condition you're in, you're never gonna hit anythin'", O'Sullivan drawled while he tightened his hold on Andy.

"Well, as amusin' as this meeting was, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to go." With that, O'Sullivan tried to pull his captive and himself into a standing position, but Andy resisted and brought both of them back down to the floor. All the while, Sam looked on, waiting for some hidden signal.

The criminal was now muttering something about a stalemate, but Andy didn't really listen. She quirked an eyebrow at her boyfriend. What are you looking for? What am I supposed to do? Aren't you going to do something about this?

Her silent communication resulted in a helpless expression on Sam's face. He obviously didn't trust himself to hit O'Sullivan and not hurt her. Taking a deep breath, Andy willed herself to really look at him. Apart from the shaking and the unnatural pallor, his breathing was irregular and so fast that Andy was afraid he might loose consciousness soon. Still, Sam was Sam. Muscular, radiating a unique mix of confidence and warmth. He would never let anything bad happen to her. And with that realization, Andy relaxed into O'Sullivan's grip, closing her eyes. Shoot, Sammy, I trust you. You'd never in a thousand years hit me.

For the span of a single breath nothing happened and Andy wondered whether she'd misread her lover's body language. Then, just as she opened her eyes to inspect the situation, his finger tensed and pulled the trigger. She saw the flash of the gun, tried not to move and flinched anyways. The sound was thunderous in the small room, being reflected from the mostly bare walls. As quickly as her overloaded senses would allow, Andy pushed herself off the floor and into Sam's waiting arms.

"I missed you", he murmured into her hair and slung one arm around her shoulders. The other one was still pointing the gun at the criminal.

"Sam...", Andy started, swallowed and began again. "Thank you. I missed you too. Thanks for saving my ass." Finally, she felt whole again.

"Likewise", Sam answered tiredly and laughed. "Ouch, that hurts."

"Ribs?", Andy asked compassionately, earning a nod. She felt Sam's arm slide down to her waist and used the space to turn around and fix her eyes on the criminal. To her surprise, Sam hadn't gone for the chest or the head, instead aiming for O'Sullivan's upper thigh. Right now, the blond man was pressing both hands onto the wound and stared at them with deep hatred.

"I'll get security. And the nurses", Andy said and released herself from Sam's embrace. Halfway to the door, she was held back by O'Sullivan's giggle. "It's not over yet, you know? In the end, you'll still loose."

"What do you mean?", Andy wanted to know, stepping closer to the criminal's frame. The urge to kick him was overwhelming, but Sam was watching, so she was on good behavior. That resolve was tested soon when the cackling continued.

„You have no idea, do you? Think, idiots, why was I even able to get in here all uninvited and the like?"

"Where are the others?", Sam asked at the same time that Andy's face lost all color.

"The robbery. It was a distraction."

"Oh yeah", O'Sullivan giggled, bringing his bloody fingers up to his gleefully trembling lips, "but it was so much more than that. See, Boyden is under orders to exact a little revenge in my stead. I do wonder whether Stevie-boy will survive a bullet to the heart?"


	9. Chapter 9

**XVI**

"Tracy? Why is Detective Peck not picking up his phone? I've tried calling him", Andy ranted, voice raised. She felt Sam's warm hand on hers, trying to anchor her. It did help to contain the panic to a slightly less overwhelming level.

"There is a hostage crisis over here", Tracy answered calmly, "Steve is busy. He's negotiating with the subject. We think he's making progress."

"No!", Andy shouted, earning a concerned look from Sam. "Look, Tracy, we have O'Sullivan in custody and..."

"What? How did that happen?"

"It doesn't matter!", Andy screamed, losing her temper. Ever since Sam had gone missing over 24 hours ago, she didn't seem to be able to catch her breath. A part of her was sorry that Tracy got the bad end of her fury, albeit a small part of her. The rest was still frantically trying to pick up the pieces and stop anyone else from dying.

"Shut up and listen. O'Sullivan indicated that the robbery was a ruse and a trap set for Detective Peck. It's Boyden who took the hostages. He means to kill Peck. You got that? Do not let Detective Steve Peck anywhere near the damn building! What do you mean too late for that?"

Seconds later, Andy hung up the phone, shoulders slumped in defeat. "He's already in the building, he's trying to talk Boyden down. It won't work, Sam, and there's nothing we can do", she said tonelessly. Her heart was still racing, chasing after the happy ending that now seemed so far out of reach. Out of breath, she leaned against Sam's clammy chest, surprised by his calmness.

"Maybe. Maybe not", Sam answered, thoughfully eyeing the phone. "Time for Plan B."

**XVII**

Detective Peck was staring down the barrell of a gun and wondered whether this were his last moments on earth. He hadn't even said any goodbyes.

"Are you going to shoot me now?", Steve asked honestly, his voice shaking as much as the weapon in front of his face. The youthful criminal opposite him was sweating and shivering badly, probably due to the adrenaline and the immense stress of the situation. The question most likely didn't help ease that stress either.

"I... I have to!", Boyden screamed. His grip on the gun was unstable, yet Steve did not dare move to take it from him. He was too close. If the weapon went off during the struggle, he would no doubt be hit. Hence, talking was the only option.

"No, you do not have to. In fact, I want you to think about what you're doing very carefully. You don't have to do this."

"That's where you're wrong." Boyden's voice was lower now. Sadly, he didn't seem to be deescalating, instead finding his... resolve? Steve swallowed nervously.

"I'm sorry", Boyden said. Steve saw his finger move on the trigger. He closed his eyes. In his pocket, his phone started ringing.

Both Boyden and Steve jumped. "What is this?!"

"My phone, apparently", Steve said drily. Carefully, making his moves obvious and slow, he pulled it out. Surprisingly, Boyden let him.

"Hello? You are on speaker."

"Hi Steve, it's Sam!", a decidedly chipper voice declared. Boyden seemed shocked, whereas Detective Peck thanked all heavens for Detective Swarek's good timing. "Hey Sam", he rasped. Only now that he was speaking to his colleague, it hit him that he could have been dead moments ago.

"Is Boyden around?", Sam wanted to know. Seeing the young man's sceptical expression, Steve hoped that Detective Swarek knew what he was doing by addressing the criminal. Feigning nonchalance when the criminal stayed silent, Steve answered. "Yeah, he's right here."

"Good." The phone beeped and for a second, Steve thought Sam had disconnected. He hadn't, though. He'd send a picture. A picture of O'Sullivan in a hospital room. There was blood on the floor and blood on O'Sullivan's clothes. Most importantly, the blond kingpin was in handcuffs.

"That's... that's a fake!", Boyden shouted and pushed the gun up Steve's neck. Then he grabbed the phone, eyes wide.

"It's real. Look at the time. It's been taken only a moment ago", Sam assured the kid. Steve's brain had been working overtime, now he carefully leaned back from the gun, allowing him to look Boyden in the eyes. "It's over, son. Whatever O'Sullivan had planned for you, it's not going to happen. You need to make your own choices from now on."

His words hit home. Steve could see it in the way Boyden's body relaxed a little and in the insecurity that now shone from his eyes. After all, he was just a kid. "Give me the gun, son."

"No! You can't have it! I won't go to prison! I still have the hostages!" He sounded desperate. Poor fellow. However, after nearly being killed by the distraught youth, Steve's sympathy had its limits. He shook his head in a placating manner. "We can't let you go, no matter what happens next. You will go to prison, the only question is for how long and what for. Killing a police officer will result in a life sentence. Taking hostages? You haven't hurt any of us yet. You'll be out in no time."

"I don't want to go to prison. I never wanted any of this", Boyden admitted, quieter. His hands slowly fell to his sides. "I'm sorry."

"It's gonna be okay", Steve said and took the weapon away from the kid.

**XVIII**

Boyden was convicted a fortnight after Sam was released from hospital. They received the news while they were having a little barbeque in Tracy's backyard. Boyden would go to prison for four years.

"He deserved more than that", Andy said grimly. Even after Sam's recovery, she kept close to him. Right now, she was thoroughly enjoying herself on his lap, a beer bottle in hand. She could feel Sam's warm laugh rumbling in his stomach. "A bit vengeful, are we?"

"He's been manipulated by O'Sullivan", Steve added thoughtfully, "Perhaps the judge could have been more lenient."

"He tried to kill you!", Gail interjected, siding with Andy on the matter. For a while, they argued, all the while keeping the banter light.

"At least O'Sullivan got what he deserved. Thirty years with no chance for early parol", Dove summarized. "Whereas Frankie got away. Strange world."

"Hopefully he'll stay away", Andy grumbled.

"I don't think that's the last we saw of him", Sam said, disagreeing mildly, "But for now he's gone and that's fine with me. The city sure is safer without the likes of him. To friendship and saving lives!" He raised his glas to his friends, smiling in the sunset of the warm Saturday evening.

"To friendship!" They all echoed.

* * *

**A/N: This is it. Finally! I know it's been a long time, please don't kill me! ;D For all of you, who waited and for all the new readers: Thank you so much for reading! **

**Did you like it? Any criticism? Leave some feedback down below. It would make my day! :)**


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